


Serendipity

by ThyCannoli (orphan_account)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Brother-Sister Relationships, Cats, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Clumsiness, Doctors & Physicians, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ThyCannoli
Summary: Lots of accidents happen in the Christmas season and baking can be very dangerous if you aren't attentive enough.





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> So the thing is, I'm totally feeling the holiday spirit and had to write something related to that.

On the night before Christmas Eve Theon trips over his black and white cat, Ramsay Snow, while taking a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven. “Cookies” being a very loosely applied term in the case of his tasteless, smudgy lumps, but at least he tried. Now all that hard work, the long hours spent cutting out the stars, has been in vain. Theon watches the little brown shapes fly and for a split second he doesn’t notice the counter edge that’s on a collusion course with his head. He damn near cracks his skull on the wooden surface as he falls, then the world fades out in a dark red haze. The last thing he sees is Ramsay, that wicked little shit, batting at his limp hand with a white paw.

 

~¤~

 

“-eon! Theon!”

He wakes up to being shaken and to his sister’s voice booming above him. “Y’ra?” Ugh, the articulation function isn’t quite right yet… Theon raises his head and blinks owlishly in the blinding light of his kitchen. Huh, he’s on the floor. Why was he sleeping there? Sitting up amongst gingerbread stars, he glances at Yara and sees two of her for a second, until his vision boots up. It looks like each part of the system comes back online at a different speed. How interesting... “When d’you arrive?

“Just two minutes ago. Shit, I almost called 911. I heard a crash, then I ran inside and found you knocked out here. What the hell happened?” Yara squeezes his shoulder to get his attention. Theon racks his mind to remember. He wanted to get into the Christmas spirit, so he decided to bake, then… Ramsay!

The culprit is sitting next to Yara and has his tiny pink tongue out, innocently cleaning his claws (with whom he often tries to flay Theon during playtime). When he notices that Theon’s staring, he puts his front leg down and switches on his big-eyed, confused expression. Oh, does he think he can get away with that stunt he has just pulled?

“I will eat the whole tuna conserv myself for that.” Theon’s coordination isn’t the best at the moment, so he might have said that to Yara’s knee instead of his cute pet monster. Unsurprisingly, Yara’s flummoxed and more than a bit concerned. “Alright, we are going to the hospital.”

So there they go. Yara’s not someone you can say no to when she’s dedicated to make something happen. Well, you can say no but she’s not gonna listen. Theon knows this well, therefore he puts up no resistance when his sister tucks him into her car and speeds all the way to Westeros General Hospital.

However, the poor nurse at the reception doesn’t know shit about Yara’s viciousness and dares tell her that none of the doctors on shift qualified to treat Theon’s injury are available. Now that’s when Theon tries to shuffle away before Yara, in her agressively caring way, starts yelling to get him one. Here follows a solid ten minutes of embarrassing Theon - there’s a man in the waiting room sitting with a knife stabbed through his hand, for Christ’s sake, his headwound isn’t so important, even if he has to press a snowman patterned napkin to it to soak up the blood seeping out. Yara, of course, doesn't think so though and she states her opinion for the entire floor to hear. She’s jutting out her chin in a typical streetfighter stance when the nurse cowers and says she might be able to get someone. She makes a few calls while Yara’s leaning into her personal space intimidatingly, then declares that someone’s ready to treat him. The catch: he is a pediatrician.

 

That’s how Theon ends up in a colourful examination room, some Dr. Stark’s if he read it right, in the pediatric ward. There are drawings on the walls from grateful little patients, lots of flowers, smiling stick figures and an “I ❤ Dr. Stark”. Theon figures he can’t get lower than this, sitting next to a baby changing table in his Christmas sweater with a giant bump on his head. Oh, and most likely waiting for a gouty old man who will tell him _“Go home, son, and sleep it off. Do you want a candy?”_

He’s still moaning about his own existence and musing about what his cat has been in another life when the door opens. The guy who comes in is tall, young and handsome, and has a broad, open smile on his face that melts right off when he catches sight of Theon. He gapes at him for a long moment and Theon gapes back, equally stunned, but for different reasons. Then the guy blinks and steps back out, closing the door behind himself.

Five minutes later he comes in again, his face scarlet and mildly embarrassed. “Sorry. I thought there had been a mix up. You are a little older than my usual patients.” _I can imagine,_ Theon thinks and barely stifles a snort.

“So, um, I’m Doctor Robb Stark.” He holds out a warm hand and Theon shakes it, introducing himself somewhat dazedly.

“Theon Greyjoy.” God, this Robb has amazing blue eyes...

“Theon, do you know where you are?”

“In Westeros General.”

Doctor Gorgeous smiles at him in genuine relief. “That’s right. Can you tell me why you are here?”

“Because I stepped on my evil cat.”

Stark frowns and notes something on the clipboard in his hand. “Please elaborate.”

“I tripped over my cat while baking cookies and headbutted the counter.”

“Oh. I see.”

“You can laugh if you want.” Theon sees the effort the guy puts into staying serious, but the wobbling corners of his mouth give him away.

“No, it’s ah, not funny at all.” Stark bites into his bottom lip to keep himself from grinning, but he breaks into laughter when Theon smirks up at him.

“Sorry, sorry” He gasps and tries to muffle his chuckles with the back of his hand. “It’s just… I’ve been on shift for twenty hours now and you are too -”

“Pathetic?”

“Funny.” Heaving deep breaths, Stark composes himself. “Please take your sweater and shirt off.”

“Aren’t we a little too fast, doctor?” Theon winks. “Not saying I mind it.”

The guy blushes again, that beautiful flush spreading to the collar of his scrub top and further, as much as Theon can guess. First test is a success - he responds positively to a man’s flirting, Theon notes, tossing his shirt aside. The doctor unhooks the stethoscope from around his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m going to check your heartbeat now. This might be a bit cold.” He says and presses the chestpiece to Theon’s pecks. It _is_ cold, but that’s not what makes Theon’s heart speed up. It’s the pressure of a hand on his bare shoulder and the intense way Stark concentrates, listening to the beating of Theon’s heart. Up until this moment, Theon hasn’t quite understood medical kinks, but the appeal seems obvious now. If this went on long enough, he would definitely get turned on.

“Your heart rate’s slightly elevated, but it’s within normal parameters after what happened to you.” Doctor Stark concludes, putting the equipment back around his neck. He produces a penlight from the pocket of his white coat. “Look into the light.”

Theon does, though he feels squeamish while doing so. You mustn’t look into the setting sun, so why is it okay to look into a flashlight?

The doctor lets out a satisfied hum and leans back. “Do you have a headache?”

That’s not even a question, it’s like his head’s about to split in half. “Yes.”

Stark nods and goes over to the small desk in the corner, pulling out a blank receipt from a paper holder. He writes something on it while Theon’s putting his clothes back on. “I’ll prescribe you a painkiller. You can take two at once every six hours at the maximum.”

He turns back to Theon and gives him the prescription. “Anything else you would like to tell me? Do you feel nauseaous or dizzy?”

Theon shakes his head, feigning cluelessness. “No, but I think I’m hallucinating.”

Both of Stark’s eyebrows jump to his hairline. “Hallucinating?”

“Uh-huh. I see an angel from heaven.” Stark seems to be at a loss - he’s not a neurosurgeon after all - so Theon takes pity on him and finishes his corny courting. “By the way, you should call God. He’s missing you.”

“Christ.” Stark laughs, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t you stop flirting? You are a terrible patient.”

Theon hums. “But I’m an excellent lover.”

“I bet.” They stare at each other for a minute, until Stark clears his throat. His ears are red from what Theon hopes is attraction or arousal. “You have a mild concussion. I advise you to sleep as much as you can in the following days and avoid physical exertion and stress. If you feel recurring nausea, dizziness, sensitivity to light or have a headache for more than three days, come back for a checkup.”

Theon jumps off the examination table and steps close enough to Stark that he could easily kiss him. “Do you do house calls, doctor?”

Stark wets his lips, shaking his head, but he doesn’t increase the distance between them to an appropriate length. “You should see a neurologist next time.”

“That’s all then?” Would be a bit disappointing, Theon didn’t even get a candy… or a phone number.

“One more thing.” Stark strolls to his desk and takes something out of the drawer. He scribbles on it, then comes back and sticks it on Theon’s forehead, on the small wound that has been bleeding before.

“Ow, fuck.” Theon whines at the pain. “That hurt like a bitch.”

Stark snickers and picks up a basket of sweets from the nearby counter. “Here, have a candy.”

Theon takes two, because he needs some compensation, damnit, and follows Stark to the exit. “Thank you, Doctor Stark.”

Stark stops on the threshold and smiles. “Call me Robb.”

 

~¤~

 

“Is that a princess kid plaster on your head?” Yara squints at him back home while Theon’s trying to find a certain Robb Stark on facebook. “Did you know there’re numbers on it?”

Never in his life has Theon run to see his reflexion faster.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos if you had fun! :)


End file.
